Secrets
by Melistborn
Summary: Episode 7x02 "Proof". One-shot. This is what might have taken place just after that heated confrontation between Reid and JJ. If the loss of a friend had made him consider taking Dilaudid again, what would the discovery that JJ has been lying to him for the last seven months push him to do? This didn't happen, but I like to think that maybe it could have.


**I just watched this episode, and I could easily imagine a scenario where an angry Reid nearly slips up after his confrontation with JJ. Please forgive me if I get some of the details wrong. I was recently introduced to Criminal Minds and am watching it for the first time right now. I'm still new to this fandom.**

**Disclaimer: If you recognize it, it's not mine. Credit for those parts go to the writers and creators at CBS.**

–

_Jennifer, listen, the only reason you were able to manage my perceptions is because I trusted you. I came to your house for ten weeks in a row crying over losing a friend, and not once did you have the decency to tell me the truth._

Reid stormed away from the conference room, his emotions barely contained beneath the surface. His hands were shaking with rage. He wanted to hit something, throw something, break something. He knew he needed an outlet for the anger and humiliation that had been coursing through his veins ever since he'd discovered that his best friend had been lying to him for the past seven months, and right now he could only think of one thing. He was craving –

_What if I started taking Dilaudid again? Would you have let me?_

_You didn't_

_Yeah, but I thought about it._

That wasn't a lie. He had thought about it. He was still thinking about it. More than he was willing to admit to JJ. She didn't understand. She wasn't an addict. She didn't know what it was like to experience unbearable pain and deny yourself the one thing that could make it stop. He'd longed for the relief the Dilaudid would bring, but he'd turned to JJ for that relief instead. Now he felt embarrassed when he thought about how he'd let himself cry in front of her, falling apart in her arms, letting her comfort him over and over again for two and a half months. But the pain of losing Emily was nothing – NOTHING – compared to the pain of betrayal he was feeling now.

Well, two could play at that game. If they weren't going to be honest with him, he owed them no honesty in return. He had his own secret, and now he didn't have to feel guilty about keeping it from them.

Reid casually opened the bottom drawer of his desk and reached behind it to retrieve the syringe and vial he'd taped there years ago at the height of his addiction. With the practiced hands of a magician, he slipped them into his messenger bag. JJ was so confident that he wouldn't use again, hadn't even considered the possibility. She obviously didn't know him as well as she thought she did.

She had no idea what he would or wouldn't do.

Reid's adrenaline carried him all the way to the men's room where he bolted the door behind him. Even though it had been over three years since he had last shot up, his body remembered exactly what to do, as if it had just been waiting and preparing for this moment. Before he'd even consciously made the decision, Reid's left sleeve was rolled up above the elbow and he was tightening the tourniquet around his bicep. His hands were surprisingly steady as they drew back the plunger on the syringe, filling it with a carefully measured amount of clear liquid. He paused with the needle centimeters away from him arm. The track marks were nothing more than faint white scars anymore, but he could see his Median Cubital Vein pulsing, begging for the pinch of the needle and the escape into oblivion that would follow.

Just do it. Just make it all go away. Just one more time. No one would blame him if he did it. Didn't he deserve a pass after everything they'd put him through? Just enough to dull the pain and anger and humiliation. Nobody would ever know –

NO!

Reid's eyes snapped up to meet his horrified reflection in the mirror above the sink and he dropped the needle, stumbling away from the counter until his back hit the wall. He slid down to sit on the floor with his long legs sprawled out in front of him. What was he doing?! Fumbling fingers tore off the tourniquet and flung it across the room, where it landed beside the still-full syringe of Dilaudid. He blinked away hot tears and threaded his long fingers into his hair.

The adrenaline from his confrontation earlier was wearing off and the reality of what he had been about to do washed over him, leaving him feeling ashamed and nauseated. He wondered if he was going to throw-up.

The doorknob to the restroom rattled as someone tested it before realizing it was locked.

"Reid?" Hotch's quiet voice came from the other side of the door.

Reid didn't answer, didn't move a muscle.

"Spencer, I know you're in there. We need to talk. Come find me when you're finished."

Did Hotch know what had almost just happened? Did he suspect? It suddenly occurred to Reid that the only reason he had gotten away with keeping his emergency stash of Dilaudid a secret from Hotch for this long was probably because Hotch was preoccupied with keeping his own secrets. It seemed so obvious now. What other secrets was Hotch keeping from him? But, then again, that was Hotch's job. JJ, on the other hand. . . If she'd been lying to him about this, what else had she been lying to him about? How could he ever trust her again?

Once Reid heard Hotch's footsteps retreating he stood on shaky legs and gathered up his contraband. He quickly emptied the syringe into the toilet – a part of him still half-wishing he would have emptied it into his bloodstream – and wrapped it in toilet paper with the vial of Dilaudid. His hand hovered above the trash can. He knew he should throw it away, knew it was stupid and dangerous to keep a stash in a federal building, knew he had worked too hard and too long to be this careless.

And he knew it was what JJ would want him to do.

He placed the bundle back in his messenger bag. Screw what she wanted. Renewed anger flared in his chest.

He washed his hands and carefully rolled his left sleeve back down below his elbow before unlocking the door and striding back toward the conference room where the team was already reassembled.


End file.
